


You Should Have Just Sat There and Drank Your Juice

by campsearchlight



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Mutual Pining, Ortega almost puts his damn foot in his mouth, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 16:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20910893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campsearchlight/pseuds/campsearchlight
Summary: Jules is stuck in a hospital bed while Ortega has a small anxiety attack next to them. No big deal.





	You Should Have Just Sat There and Drank Your Juice

**Author's Note:**

> I’m really good at titling things.

Jules’s fingertips ghosted across their exposed bottom lip while the rest of their face was still obscured by their mask. Their eyes drifted over to Ortega, who was pacing across the hospital room, chunky phone held to his ear. He was speaking rapid-fire to Steel. Even though it was in English, Jules couldn’t focus on what he was saying.

Their leg was in a cast—and all they could think about was Ortega pulling up their mask and kissing them like he was afraid he’d never get to kiss them again.

They realized he was looking at them, his eyebrows knitted together.

“No, they’re fine. I—” He sighed and rubbed the corners of his eyes with his free hand. “I’m fine, too.” He looked away from Jules, toward the window. “I’m going to spend the night here. Make sure they get out okay in the morning... Thanks. I look forward to getting out of this suit.” He ran his hand down the side of his blue Ranger jumpsuit. “I’ll see you soon. Thanks, Chen.” He hung up, set the phone down on the hospital tray, and sat down at Jules’s bedside. He didn’t say anything, just sighed heavily.

“Everything okay?” Jules asked, picking up the cup of apple juice next to his phone.

“Yeah. Chen’s bringing me some civilian clothes.”

“Why don’t you just go home?” Their tone was not unkind; they wanted to know why he was still there.

He cracked a lopsided grin. “And leave you here all alone?”

“I’m fine. I have my juice.” They lifted the cup like a toast, then stuck the straw in the corner of their mouth.

“And what about in the morning? You want to deal with all those nurses and doctors asking about you? Who’s going to bring you home? Who are you?”

“I can just—” They almost said that they could attempt to manipulate their way out of it via telepathy, but something told them not to mention it. “Dodge.”

“Dodge.” He shook his head. “Right.”

“What?”

He looked at them with a strange expression. “Nothing.” His expression cleared. “Do you want some more juice?”

“No, I’m good.”

He nodded, and then he was somewhere far away.

Jules took the time to lean back on the pillows and close their eyes for a while, until he cleared his throat, drawing back their attention.

“That was pretty scary back there,” he said, his voice low.

Jules’s chest felt tight. They had been trying to keep their mind off the fact that they had come scarily close to dying a few hours ago. “Uh, yup.”

“That’s it?” Ortega leaned closer to them. “‘Yup’?”

“What do you want me to say, Ortega? I almost died. I’m lucky I got out of that with just a broken leg.”

“And you’re just... okay? Sipping that juice like nothing happened?”

They scoffed, exasperated. “What, do you want me to cry on your shoulder or something? I’m fine, Ortega. I’m alive. Don’t dwell on it.”

“It’s hard not to when I’m f—ugh.” He reached for his phone and started dialing too many numbers.

“When you’re what?”

“Nothing.” He kept tapping.

Knowing he wouldn’t respond to them prying with another question, Jules eyed his busy fingers. “Who are you calling?”

“Chen. Telling him I don’t need him to bring me clothes because I’m going home.”

They rolled their eyes. “Christ, Ortega, put the phone down.”

He scowled at them. “Really?”

“Yes, put the phone down, because you’re not actually calling him. You would have gone down to the cafeteria for a couple of hours until I fell asleep, and then, when I woke up, you would be sat right there in that chair, because you’re not actually leaving. Now, put that down and go get yourself something to eat before you faint and land yourself in the bed next to mine. Please.”

It was probably Jules overthinking the situation, but the static seemed to intensify.

Then, Ortega put down his phone. “Okay. Okay.”

“Thank you. And I’ll ask the nurse to get you a blanket.”

He nodded once and turned to go.

“And Ortega?”

He glanced back at them.

Jules inhaled deeply. “Thank you. For staying.”

He smiled faintly, his gaze lingered on them, and then he left.

They stared after him for a few moments—waited until they were sure he was gone—and their lungs crumpled as if the air had been forced out of them. They tore their mask off in a fit, trying to get more air.

They realized they were crying, tears streaming helplessly down their face. If it weren’t for Ortega, they would be in the fucking morgue. 

The door opened, and they gasped. There was no time to put the mask back on.

“Sidestep,” Ortega said, coming back into the room, “I just realized I forgot to ask you if you want something to eat while I’m...” He trailed off, and his eyes went wide.

Unsure what to do, Jules stared back at him. What would he say?

“Y-your... Your mask is...” He inhaled sharply and spun on his heel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to see—”

They couldn’t say anything. Their jaw was locked, their teeth clenched harder than when the doctors set the break. They tugged the mask back on, covering their face all the way.

“A-are you hungry?” His voice was an octave higher than normal.

“Ortega.” They drew in a deep breath. “You... can’t... tell anyone.”

His back still to them, he asked in a normal tone, “You think I’d tell anyone what you look like?”

“I-I don’t know. And you can turn around.”

He did, and he frowned when he saw that their face was hidden again. “I don’t even know your name. It’d be useless information.”

“I’m just making sure.”

“I understand. Trust me, I do.” He paused. “So, are you hungry?”

“I don’t think I could stomach anything right now,” they admitted.

“Right. Um... well, for the record?” Ortega gave them a shit-eating grin. “You’re actually kind of cute.”

They choked. “_What_?”

His grin only widened, and he left again.

Jules sat back, stunned.

_Cute?_ No one had ever called them cute before, as far as they knew. And for it to come from Ortega, of all people...

They couldn’t help the unwelcome feeling that they couldn’t trust Ortega, couldn’t trust anyone.

But he called them cute...

This was too much. They needed to get out of there. But, the windows didn’t open, and they would have had to fight their way to the stairwell—with a broken leg.

There was nothing for them to do but wait for Ortega to return.


End file.
